An Intimate Suicide
by Donner Dumott Schunard
Summary: For a speedrent prompt, Suicide. Angel and Collins don't want AIDS to take them, so they die the most dignified way they know how. Slight AU.


This fic... well... I really don't know what to say about it. Love it or leave it. I don't want you to be lead that I thought Angel and Collins were suicidal or nothing... far from it to be honest. But maybe by the time you read the ending it'll make sense.

Just keep in mind _Will I?_ was inspiration for this fic.

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT.**

**An Intimate Suicide**

**By Donna**

Collins stared at the city street below him. He pulled the small vial from his pocket and read the label. "WARNING: MORPHINE. HIGHLY ADDICTIVE." He turned to the door and bit his lip. "Maybe if we talk this over we won't have to resort to this..."

No. He couldn't back out. This was the easiest, painless, and _only _way they could die together and with some peace. Why wait for the disease to overtake them?

This was the only way. Nothing else.

Maybe the label shouldn't have been stuck on that morphine. Maybe it should have been copied and put on anybody on the street.

WARNING: HUMAN. HIGHLY ADDICTIVE.

The door opened and Angel walked into the warm night air. She held onto the doorknob for a moment, looking photo-worthy. She wore red roses in her wig and a flowing white dress she made for this occasion. Collins gulped, fixing his tie at the sight of her.

Angel made eye contact with him, her kohl-rimmed eyes looking exhausted. It was only a matter of time until her body would entirely give out. Hell, it should have _months _ago, but she was stubborn and nothing was going to be in her way. She even put on coverup to keep her sores hidden and looked almost okay. She parted her red lips and said, with sudden confidence, "Let's do it."

Collins nodded, kissing her. She broke the kiss and asked, "Is this going to hurt?"

Collins flashed the vial. "I refuse it to."

He sat her down and pulled a belt out of nowhere. "I got some morphine off the street. It costs a lot, I know, but I don't want you to hurt anymore."

They kissed again. "I love you," she whispered. She kissed him once more and smiled. "Sorry. I figured that when the morphine kicks in, I won't feel you."

Collins nodded. "I know." He carefully wrapped the brown belt around her arm and pulled out a syringe.

"You proofread the letters, right?" Angel asked. "I can't spell for my life."

"I know. I fixed them and signed them."

He put the needle close to her arm. She flinched. "I-I'm a little scared. I didn't... I've never done this before."

"Don't worry," Collins whispered, turning her head away. "I know what I'm doing."

He slipped the needle into her rather dull-looking skin. She let out a soft gasp.

"Give it a moment to go through your system."

She nodded. "Are you using any?"

"No."

She looked up at him, confused. "Why?"

"Because I wanted you to have no pain. Simple as that."

Angel's eyes glazed over a little.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... I don't feel anything... let's go..."

Collins held her up. She looked like a bride, something she was robbed the chance of.

What a pity.

They walked to the edge, looking below them. There wasn't much action, besides a prostitute that worked on the corner by their apartment and a couple junkies. They'd probably not even notice them, anyway. For all they knew, the sky could be in the midst of falling.

"Are you sure you want this?" Collins asked.

Angel nodded. "I'm sure. I don't want to live waiting to die. I want control..."

Control. That was what suicide was. Failed megalomaniacs that decided to have supreme power over the one thing they could control: Their death.

"...It's... it's not that I'm scared to die. I just don't want to lose my dignity." She flipped her hair and smiled. "I'm dying fucking gorgeous."

Collins didn't feel the need to tell her that she was going to fall and probably not end up so pretty on the end of this fall.

Angel laughed a little and held her head up. For once she didn't look like a messed-up kid, dramatic gender-bender, or a simply confused man. She looked like something of fantasy. Of gods. Of angels.

They kissed one final time and swung their hands.

"I love you, Angel."

"I love you, too, Tom."

They took deep breaths and began to count. "3...2...1..."

They pushed their feet up.

"So long, motherfuckers."

And they were gone.

**END**


End file.
